


Goddess of Death

by Isa_Schwertz



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: And smart, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, F/M, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Summaries, Jason is nice, Killings, Markswoman, You are very cool, and make a good cup of coffee, i love jason todd, jason is cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 02:27:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21420679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isa_Schwertz/pseuds/Isa_Schwertz
Summary: You always taught you were going to have the job you wanted. But in Gotham it was never like that. Will the goddess of death continue to reign or will she finally succumb and lay to rest in her deadly world.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Reader, Red Hood/Reader
Kudos: 33





	Goddess of Death

**Author's Note:**

> OMG!!! Thank you everyone who liked my previous fic! I fucking cried. You guys are amazing!  
This one is a little weird. Hope you guys like it!!!

The clicking of your heels sounded rhythmic against the pavement. Every move you make, every breath you took, every look sent to the passing gothamites was carefully calculated. Hiding in plain sight was your specialty. The suitcase you carried was heavy, but you didn’t let that manifest, lightly swaying your hips so you could maintain a balanced walk through the path you had chosen. You got to your destination quickly, entering the high office building, the wall full of glass causing a light reflection in your eyes as you passed through security, nodding and giving the guard a small smile.  
You got in the elevator, pressing the button for the last floor. As the sudden motion began, you watched as the walls of the elevator turned from black to a skittish grey, the clarity of the outside world infesting the little glass cage. Gotham was a big city, a big monochromatic grey city. The downtown area was packed, the buildings extending through miles, the streets looking like pathways for ants, as people shuffled in the sidewalk, mindlessly following their routes, the anxiety coursing through their veins. Although you held an apathetic gaze you knew the feeling. The desperation, the panic, the depression of the city that surrounded you. You broke it as your heard the gears slow down, turning to the doors and walking straight out when they opened it.  
The stairs were one of the worst thing of your little career, slightly loosing to the main action of your contract. You never thought that you would follow the line of work you had. You see, you had always been a good girl, a smart girl. You took your SATs, you passed through university like it was the easiest thing to do and did your Bar Exam, and still, after all of that, you didn’t got the job you wanted as a minor lawyer at Wayne Enterprises. You got the job it was offered, not only doing what you got a diploma for, but also for doing something else.  
As you opened the doors the winds pushed you backwards. You took long strides to the ledge of the roof, seeing the covered sun setting, the myriad of unusual colors mixing with the polluted grey of Gotham’s skies. You took a breath, turning to one of the building that surrounded you. Now, you were in the tallest building in the area so you knew no one could see you. You knelt onto the ground, laying your suitcase and opening it, staring at its disassembled contents, a sigh of uneasiness leaving your lips as you picked up the part of the lower receiver, clicking the trigger mechanism, twisting in the bipod and locking it in place. Allowing the bolt carrier to come forward, you positioned the upper receiver, grasping lightly and releasing the charging handle slowly, fully closing the bolt, and finally attaching the scope and the suppressor. You laid onto the floor, position ready, breath held. You take a shot and you can hear the screams even from the distance. You raise yourself, clicking, twisting and snapping the rifle, disassembling back into its harmless form, closing the suitcase and leaving the building.  
Hel, that’s what you were called. The heir of Loki. The nordic Goddess of Death and owner of the land of the dead. Your boss was the great crime lord Black Mask, and you were not only his lawyer, which sounds ridiculous since he only deals with criminals, but also his number one markswoman. You hated the job, but the sum of money you received was enough for you to become calloused with the deaths.  
As you enter your apartment complex you feel a tranquil sensation overtake you. You lived in a small but comfortable studio apartment, as you didn’t liked the opulent style your boss and colleagues flaunted. It also helped you feel more human, knowing your neighbors, hearing their talks about how the prices of tomatoes were raising. “You seem tired sweetie” you hear the softly spoken voice of your elderly neighbor Nanci say as you get to your door. Tiredly looking at her you just give her the most sincere smile of your day and she responds with a sympathetic one as you opened your door, getting promptly inside.  
Taking your shoes of you walk through your living room and past your bed, entering the bathroom only to peel your clothes like they were hazardous and enter your little bathtub. In days like these you felt relieved your boss gave you the rest of the night off as a reward for a job well done, and always sunk in your tub, darkness engulfing you, warm water washing your sins. You guess you laid there for an hour, the flames of the candles you lit slowly extinguishing, until you decided to leave the warm comfort. As you raised you felt the brisk air, coming in contact with the water that trickled down your body, you shivered, quickly going for a fluffy black towel and drying yourself so you could put on the old silk robe your grandmother had given as her parting gift.  
When you left the bathroom the apartment was dark, the penumbra settling in. Not that it was uncommon for you to leave the lights off, enjoying only the lights that came from the city. You moved to your dresser, putting your light flannel pijamas on and laid in the bed, a drained sigh escaping your lips as you closed your eyes, waiting for another dreamless night to take you in.  
You guessed it was 3 a.m when you heard a thump, eyes opening immediately as you shudder from the chilly autumn air. Even though Gotham was a cold city, your apartment was never cold as it was now, so you knew something was wrong. You felt as someone, or something, was observing you. You breath hitched in your throat when you saw the tall figure through the wooden carved divider and you slowly made your way to the wall of your wardrobe, gently removing the ebony wood, getting the pistol you left hidden for the day someone would try to get their revenge on you.  
You walked calmly towards the living room where you saw the shadow, positioning yourself so if you needed to take the shot it was going to be certain.  
“The only thing I don’t understand is how someone as smart as you is working for someone as dumb as Black Mask” the shadow tonelessly said, a red helmet shining as the city lights entered you apartment. He turned to you, the blue electronic gaze clearly analyzing your stance, gloved fingers brushing the gun in his holster.  
“And I don’t understand why the most psychotic vigilante broke into my apartment”, your caustic tone dripped from your tongue. Breaking your stance you lowered the gun, returning the hammer and putting the safety on as you sit on the sofa, putting the pistol in the coffee table between you and the vigilante. “That wasn’t my first option of a job, you know,” you point it out, the tiredness in your voice making the stance that he held soften.  
You stood there, a comfortable silence setting as he took his gun from the holster and, imitating you, left it on the small table and leaned his back on the wall, still staring at you. You closed your eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath as you raised your body from your couch and moving to the kitchen “You can sit down, if you want Red Hood. I guess we have a lot to talk and if I don’t have a coffee you better just die before I get to the gun again” you confessed, hearing a light mechanic chuckle coming from the living room. You start to boil water in your stove as you hear hard footsteps, “And please take the shoes off, leave them by the door” you demanded and soon later heard the a slight “ompf” as the heavy boots dropped to the ground, with that you smiled and thought that at least you would die in the hands of a considerate vigilante.  
When he got to your the kitchen island he sat down in one of the stools while you were putting the grounded coffee beans in a paper filter, covering with water as the dark liquid filled a thermic bottle, and not even the helmet could stop the smell of fresh coffee of reaching his nose. You poured it in two cups, sliding one back to him as you pulled your body up until you sat in the cold marble counter, holding the cup with your two hands and slightly blowing the steam coming from the scalding liquid. You hear the small gears of Red Hoods helmet twist and a light pop as he detached the crimson helmet and put by his side.  
“Does the other mask serve as a dramatic effect?” you jokingly ask as you study his face. The chiseled jaw and the soft skin begging to be touched by your hands and the chapped lips begging to be kissed by yours. You shake your head, taking the indecent thoughts ou of your mind as he passes his hands through his raven hair and you thought you could see a clear white streak hiding between the dark locks.  
“Yes” he answered giving you a sheepish grin and taking the cup of coffee into his hands, smelling e taking a small sip, a distorted quiet moan leaving his lips as he closed his eyes, muscles seemingly relaxing “You know, my partner would love this. He never sleeps so he needs caffeine all the time” he tells you.  
“The secret is in the way you prepared it, fresh, saying no the the machines” you instructed, taking a gulp of the hot beverage, the sensation of the burning awakening you. Again you two sat in silence, the only sound being the almost silent swallowing. “I can’t leave” you mumbled, attracting his gaze from the cup back to you, eyeing you with curiosity. “I can’t leave, I signed a contract, I sold my soul to him. I know what I did is wrong, but it was the only way I could survive Gotham,” you said louder, your grip in the mug tightening, “I do the job and in return he keeps me safe and pays me a good amount. And if one day I decide to leave…” you stop, the panic arising on your mind, reflecting as you bite you lower lip and you see his jaw tighten.  
He raised himself from the stool, his hands tightened into fists as he got closer to you, slightly looking down so the could see you in the eye since you jumped of the counter. “I can’t help you” he began “I was sent here to do a job. You see, I do get some gruesome jobs sometimes, after all, I do have to pay the rent so I don’t blame you there” he revealed, a dark tone lingered in his voice. You closed your eyes, hunching your shoulders and twisting your lips in a half, sad, smile. You heard him turn, walking back to the living room and picking the heavy pistol, pressing the hammer down. “What I can you, is kill you” that was the last thing you heard as the ringing in your ears started. The loud bang startling you as you felt the raging pain in your leg, warm crimson liquid leaving your as you fell on your knees.  
You held the scream of pain, looking as Red Hood, face hidden once again by the helmet, walked back to you and kneeling onde he got in front of you. “Pack a bag, go away. I’ll take care of the rest and after I’m finished they won’t have a doubt that you’re dead” he calmly whispered, touching your wounded and spreading some of the blood in your sofa. He turned to you, helping you to your feet and you limped back to your wardrobe, getting the the bag you prepared when you first entered the job. You opened it to see all your money money, fake documents and some clothes laid neatly in it. You entered the bathroom, scattering on your cabinet for your first aid kit and promptly arranged a tourniquet, also popping some painkillers in your mouth. You keep hearing crashing coming from the kitchen, glass being shattered and now suppressed gun shots in you wall.  
It was a misunderstanding to say that it was repairable. Your apartment was in shreds as Red Hood got closer to you, opening the fire escape so you could pass through it and both of you got down to the alleyway that stood in the middle of your and the neighboring building. The next thing you know you were hugging his back tightly as the motorcycle roared and speeded thought Gotham’s streets. The lights passing so fast you thought you were going to vomit. As the bike came to stop you noticed the neon lights mark the way to the bus stop.  
“Get as far away as possible, and never come back. Gotham always remembers.” he says as a restrained mumble, never sparing you the look.  
“Thank you” you said, lips quickly coming in contact with the cold steel of his helmet.  
He watches you until you disappeared, never once turning to look back.


End file.
